The Mediator: Wishes Aren't Granted
by Fuwa Fuwa Time
Summary: Really, being a Mediator sucked. Big time. Everything appears to be normal in California. Well, despite the fact that, you know, a ghost haunts Suzie's room, and has for god knows how many centuries. However, all peace is destroyed as chaos breaks.
1. Prologue

A ghost

A ghost.

A _ghost._

I was in love with a ghost.

Unbelievable, isn't it? Well, it wasn't everyday a sixteen year old fell in love with the dead, who had, in fact, been dead for hundred and fifty years, give or take. Oh, where _are_ my manners? My name is Susannah Simon – nice name, is it not? Quite a shame about the nicknames, if I can say so myself, which no doubt I can't.

All right, so where do I start? Oh yes, I'm a mediator. And believe me its no tea party, either. The good part is that I get to kick some series ghost butt – well, the ones who deserve it anyway.

My whole life I've lived in New York City with my mom and dad. However, my dad died – just, _died_. One minute he was telling jokes and laughing, then the next he was gone. Poof, Vamoose, Gone. My first experience with ghosts was when I was two, and yes, I've had quite a tough ride, too. But yes, I am a mediator, meaning I can touch and communicate with ghosts where as everyone else cannot. Life in California did a huge turn for my mom, and me what after my little trips down to the police station. Hey, don't look at me that way, I can't help it that I have ghosts on my back twenty-four seven.

On a brighter note, there is one ghost who doesn't irritate me to no end, and lucky for me, he lives in my bedroom. Wait a minute, that's not lucky, that's not lucky at all seeing as I can't get changed _in my own room. _Why? Because the ghost who haunts my room is, in fact, a guy – quite a hot guy, mind you, despite the fact that his, well, dead. The extremely hot ghost that you are no doubt drooling over right this minute name is Jesse.

Oh, and did I mention his Spanish?

Fine, so not _pure_ Spanish, his actually just as American as I am, with bits of Spanish in his blood. Plus, he has a strange tendency to mutter words I don't really understand when his mad, as well as calling me _querida, _which I also don't understand. No doubt it isn't English – actually, that's a fact I know for sure.


	2. Chapter 1

One

**One**

As usual, it was what normal people would call you're average, typical day, where everything was all fine and dandy in the land of non-freakish. Where as on the land – _my land _– of abnormal, today was, I guess, weird. I mean, it's not like I'm complaining or anything – OK, so maybe I was. So sue me. – But when things were all quiet I couldn't help but become, erm, freaked out. Yes, my whole life – beginning when I was two, so I guess that isn't really my whole life – I've been so use to the intruding ghosts that are all like, '"Oh no, I'm dead!"' Seriously, could they _be_ more annoying? Given, Jesse is not so heated up about being dead, and so I presume he doesn't care, or as he told me once, '"Susannah, having of being dead for a hundred and fifty years, I don't really care about who killed me, or getting revenge.'" OK, so maybe those weren't his _exact_ words, but it still comes close to home, right? Am I right? But yeah, as Jesse (or should I say Hector? _Ew._ No way am I ever calling him that!) sits there all calm and stuff, some soul that hasn't found peace yet just materializes in front of me asking for my help. Do I _ever_ get a day off? Nope. Theirs no rest for the wicked, even though I'm not exactly wicked in any way.

Really, being a mediator sucked. Big time.

Ignoring my mother's calls, I headed upstairs, hoping that maybe I'd see Jesse seated on his regular position, which was my windowsill ledge. Sometimes, I wonder if his a cat. And guess what? He was. In my room, I mean. Not that he was cat. Really, living in the same room as a hot Spanish guy was like a dream come true. Or to me, at least, I don't think I can say the same for Max, even though, technically, he doesn't live in my room. No, but I bet he wished he did. Ha ha, no, I'm not that vain. It was a joke, or a sarcastic remark. To who? Myself, of course.

"Hey," I said, glancing down at Spike who was obviously comfortable next to his owner. No, I wasn't talking to the cat, even though it seemed as if I was. Heh, no way was I talking to Spike, I hated the thing, and lucky for me, it returned the feeling, so it was mutual. Huzzah. "I'm home."

Lifting his gaze from his book, Jesse looked almost annoyed. Why was he annoyed? Maybe he was reading a book about the many wars different countries had? I glanced down at the book he was reading, trying to find its title. _Deliver Me from Evil: A Sadistic Foster Mother, a Childhood Torn Apart_. Sounded rough, I could see now why Jesse had the look of disgust on his face. Judging by the title, the book didn't hold that much of what Jesse was interested in such as Medical stuff. You know, the whole things Doctor have to learn, blah blah blah. "Bad language?" I asked, smiling feebly. I admit, I wasn't the purest of using the right words. I found what I suggested amusing. However, Jesse, on the other hand, didn't. God, talk about not taking a joke. "Hardly." Jesse said, glaring. Was it just me, or did it seem as if Jesse was mad _at me?_ What had I done? Really, I'm confused. Lost, even. "_What I do?"_ I asked, my voice rising higher in pitch that it hurt my ears. Ouch. I can be such a whiner, and even I didn't know this until recently. Never mind about Jesse, I needed to silence myself, or at least, that very hysterical part of me that comes out and annoys the crap out of me, and no doubt Jesse, too. Well, maybe not so much Jesse seeing as he was no doubt use to the whole hysterical girl thing – he did, after all, have five sisters. My god, that's a lot. Thank you Lord for giving me stepbrothers, instead of sisters. Otherwise, we'd be fussing over who gets the mirror. One word: _GOD!_ How, I recently wondered, did Jesse cope? Five sisters. Really, it was amazing. Then a sudden thought struck me; When Jesse died, how did they cope? Their brother – only brother, at that – dead. Gee, I can only imagine how much the De Silva's hated Diego's guts. I wouldn't be surprised if all the sisters launched themselves all at him at once. If that were true, surely Jesse would be flattered, but most presumably also worried. As if Jesse would want his sister's beating up his murder, then again the females were more, well, female back in the 150's. It must have been a surprise, what with Jesse seeing a girl do most of the work. Welcome to the twenty first century, bud. "Susannah, are you all right?" I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts as I saw Jesse standing in front of me, concern clear in his eyes. Why, I thought, does he have to be so hot? Strange thought to be thinking, but I couldn't help it – it was a plain fact, plus I was curious. If Jesse was hot, did that mean that _all_ Spanish guys were? Thousands of Jesse. I couldn't help but giggle giddily at the thought. Was I drunk or what? And, somehow, I think Jesse thought the same too. About the me being drunk thing, I mean. "_Querida_?" That caught my attention almost immediately – like always. For a few seconds or more, I thought I really _was_ drunk, you know, when you just suddenly can't help giggling at everything. Yes, I felt giddy, almost like I was about to giggle for no reason out loud in front of Jesse. That'd be the day; the day I completely ruining my chances at ever having a future with him, unless I, too, died. Hey, then we could haunt people for the rest of eternity. That would be fun. An idea just randomly dawned on me as I caught a glimpse of the sunlight shinning through my window. I _think_ I was very, very sun drunk. Oh great, just _great._ "I'm run of the mill." I giggled. What the hell? Why in Virgin Mary had I said _that?_ But, I guess, in a way I was feeling like that. I mean, for once in my life, no ghosts were pestering me, and that one thing may have triggered me to be just the littlest tipsy. Some things really did wonders to a person, even if it was only one. "You're drunk," Jesse pointed out. I was tempted to say, in a very sarcastic tone, to give him a prize, but then, that was just a bit mean, wasn't it? Yeah. I thought so. So instead, I settle for saying nothing. If by nothing, you mean _giggling like an idiot._ Oh yes, I was drunk all right. Drunk of happiness. Halleluiah. No more ghosts to handle – I was free. _Free, at last!_ Well, Jesse was an exception seeing as I was in love with him, and he was, well, my boyfriend. Ha Ha, a ghost for a boyfriend. It made me seem as if I really was desperate. Yeah, I have such a normal life, all right. And almost as if on time, I caught the glow appearing in front of me, and guess what? Yeah. My happiness disappeared. More ghosts. "Erm? Is this were I'll find a mediator?" The voice asked. Just great. See what I mean? There is no rest for the wicked. Time to get down to business. Oh, yay. I couldn't wait. 


	3. Chapter 2

Two

**Two**

You can probably guess that, despite how long I'd be doing this business, it still irked me to no end. It wasn't fair how I couldn't have one day – _one!_ – without having to deal with this whole Help-me-I'm-kind-of-stuck-between-living-and-dying thing. Honesty, where was the justice? Not long at all did it take my expression to turn from shocked to irritated. Couldn't I just be left alone with Jesse? This made me wonder how life would be if we were a married couple – I would barely have any time to spare for Jesse, making us in no time be divorced faster than you can say _Lady Madonna. _

'What's the glitch?' I asked, just barely being able to contain my misery. This was way uncool, and I bet I could of gotten Jesse to agree with me – then again that solemnly depended on whether ghosts from the 18th century knew what it meant. For some reason, I had a feeling that they did not. As I glanced at Jesse from the corner of the room, I was slightly taken aback by his jealous expression. No kidding, it was _a jealous look._ Hey, don't question me on Jesse De Silva, I can read him like a book, even if I only have a half of look at his face. 'Look, I've got a busy schedule,' A lie, of course. As I said this, I caught sight of Jesse's lip twitch into a half smile – Oh, he knew I was lying, like I said we know each other like books. As much as I hate the words, Jesse and me were cute. _Cute. _

'Glitch?' The ghost echoed, a befuddled look playing across his features. Strangely enough, him just saying that made me remember back when I told Jesse that I didn't want him in the same room as me. 'What is this "glitch" you speak of?" Fine, so it was cute before, now it was just plain getting on my nerves – it was like having a second Jesse. As I opened my mouth to explain Jesse silenced me, my mouth, on instinct, closing.

'She means," Jesse started, his deep voice much more calmer than my own would ever be, let alone soothing, 'what is it you are in consistence of. In other words, what is the problem?'

Can I just say; Wow. Jesse, considering that his from the 18th Century when people didn't have decent pluming, he sure did a good job of explaining. I couldn't help but smile at how much more he'd changed since the first encounter I'd had with him. Jesse had told me that even though he'd been dead since 150, he didn't sit around idly as time matured. 'Yeah,' I butted in, nodding my head to Jesse explanation, 'exactly what I meant.'

Blinking, the ghost stared at myself and Jesse, uncomprehending. I guess this was a ghost from about the same time as Jesse; otherwise he or she would of understood what I meant when saying 'glitch'. 'Oh.' He said, seeming uncomfortable now. A wash of pity for him came over me, before he spoke up again, his voice less depressed. 'Pardon my rudeness, but whom are you? Especially this exquisite **signorina**.' Great, another non-native English; more confusion for me. Deciding to be polite, I smiled up at the ghost who, earlier, had annoyed me with his appearance. 'My name is,' Suddenly cut short, I was shocked to see Jesse's fist collide with the other ghosts' face. 'Her name,' Jesse said, barely able to contain his calming tone, 'is Susannah, and you,' As the other ghost had healed, Jesse jabbed his finger into his fist numerous times, and by the look of it, becoming more hard with every jab. Normally, I'd be flattered that he cared for me so much, but this – this was just being a jealous boyfriend. 'Hector!' I practically shrieked – I reminded myself of my own mother, and let me tell you, that is not a person I'd be glad to turn into when I was a mother with children of my own. 'Stop it, stop it! He was just being polite!' This, as much to my chagrin, owned me a hard, cold glare from Jesse. '_Polite?_' He laughed, and not in the amused way, either. 'Susannah, he called you "young lady", how is that polite?'

'It depends in what context he was using it in.' I quickly retorted, trying my hardest not to say something I'd regret later on, Jesse, on the other hand, had already done it. 'And, _I believe, _he was using it in the kind, gentleman way.' I added, trying to put some sense back into Jesse's head. Again, Jesse laughed bitterly. 'Are you saying his a gentleman? Susannah, listen to yourself.' This offended me – no, really, it _did._ '_I_ should listen to _myself_?' I hollered, unable to believe what I'd just heard. 'Why don't _you_ listen to _yourself, _Jesse de Silva!' Truthfully, a part of me felt horrible for saying these things to him, but I couldn't help it – he was being stupid. I don't know _why_ he hated this ghosts' guts, it's not like he was going to steal me off him, as I'd said earlier; he was just being polite. But no, Jesse refused to listen to reason, instead he just erupted and connected his fist to his face – As much as a surprise it is to hear it from a girl who used to do it herself, but _it wasn't fair._ This soul was obviously lost and confused, and now it'd take me forever to gain his trust because of _Jesse punching him in the face._ See how hard my job is? I cannot – believe me – be a Mediator and try and keep my relationship steady. I had to have one or the other, not both.

'Excuse me,' A voice said, breaking mine and Jesse's argument, 'sorry to interrupt, Suze.' Turning my head, I blinked at Doc who was standing outside of my doorway, embarrassed. 'Err, are you talking to _the ghost?_ Because I could've sworn I heard you arguing about another one. Is their another one, Suze?' Breaking my attention from Jesse and the newcomer, I approached Doc calmly. 'Yeah.' I admitted, nodding my head and then glancing at Jesse from the corner of my eye. 'Is their any chance you could, err, perhaps leave me for a while, I have some, uh-huh, homework to do.' However, Doc would have none of my excuses. 'You and Jesse are having some problems?' He pressed, his eyebrows furrowing curiously. Quickly, I shook my head. 'No, no.' I laughed hoarsely. 'It's just homework, as I said.' Doc, annoyingly enough, kept trying to get a peep into my bedroom, but I stood in his way, blocking his eyes gaze. 'Well, whatever.' He mumbled, eying me in curiosity. 'See you, Suze.'

OK, as cute as Doc was, today he was getting on my nerves. Hey! A girl should be left to her own business, with no interruptions – it was rude, not to mention, _impolite._ I so preferred my life when it was just me and my mom – stepbrothers were a hassle, how Gina handled them – real ones – I'll never know. Turning around, back toward Jesse and the other ghost who's name I do not know just yet. I let out a deep breath. 'Now, where were we?' I asked, looking at the two ghosts' once more.

Sad to say, Jesse wasn't really in the mood for speaking to me, let alone anyone. I could tell, just by looking at him, that he wanted to materialize the hell out of here. Yes, I did come around a little harsh, but so did he – he thought he had it rough when I had it a whole lot harder. Well, maybe that was a little dramatic seeing as I was alive and he was, sadly, dead. As much as I loved him, sometimes I just wished that he would get over the whole jealous boyfriend thing. Girls, I know, he can handle – Guys? Yeah, not so much.

'I'm sorry,' Alarmed, I turned my head to see who had spoken – and to my surprise, it was the ghost who Jesse already had bitter feelings toward. 'Oh, don't mind him.' I said, waving my hand dismissively in Jesse's direction. 'His always like that, don't take it too personally.' Smiling, I soon realised that I didn't know his name. 'Oh, do you mind me asking what your name would be? It'll help me a lot.'

It was clear in his expression that he hadn't expected me to ask him that question. Uncomfortably, he cleared his throat – an odd gesture, if I can say so myself. 'Benvolio' He said, extending his hand, but then suddenly eyed it with much uncertainty, unsure whether I could touch him or not. I let out a laugh, which startled him. 'Don't worry, Ben, I can most defiantly touch you.' Like most ghost's who weren't from this time, he didn't seem to like his nickname seeing as his eyebrows knitted together. 'My name is Benvolio DeMonte, not this "Ben" you seem to be fond of calling me.' Frowning up at him, I jabbed my index finger into his chest, all of a sudden ill tempered. 'Excuse me?' I asked, tightening my jaw. 'Don't go all psycho on me, OK? I'm here to help you. Understand? _H…e…l…p. _Help. Got it?'

Shocked, Benvolio stared down at where he'd been prodded (twice), and then took one single glance up at me, and then turned it to Jesse, whom had an amused expression plastered across his face. '_Querida,_' He said, obviously trying to keep a straight face, which caused Benvolio to scowl in his direction. 'I understand that he came on a little harsh –, Cut short, I flared – half amused, half disgusted. '_A litte?_ Jesse, are you insane? He got all hissy just because I called him Ben. BEN!' Letting out a long held breath, Jesse rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb, tiredly. 'Susannah, it's clear that people from his time called them by their actually names, not a shortened version.'

'But Jesse -,

'No, Susannah. Listen to me.'

'But' –

'Listen.'

'Err, Jesse?'

'Yes?'

'Look,'

Turning our heads, both Jesse and me were shocked to see that while the two of us were talking, Benvolio had materialized out of here. Can I just say that I hate it when they do that? Disappear on me, I mean. Looking up at Jesse, I tugged onto his shirt, trying to get some words out of him. In no time at all, he looked down at me, his dark liquid eyes tired, and I could catch a hint of annoyance in them, too. '_Querida, _in all honesty, I think you should join the family downstairs. I'll take care of him.' I have to say; I was beyond shocked hearing him say this to me. 'But,' I began to argue, but it was too late for he'd slowly began to disappear. Quickly, I darted for a piece of him to keep forever, but I couldn't.

He was gone, and I was alone.

I seriously hate it when he does that. He, I thought to myself as I began to walk down the steps of the stairs, is so going to get one hell of a hissy fit of me later.


End file.
